The 25th ALICE
by Masaki-Hanabusa
Summary: Wonderland had been under the tyranical rule of the King of Hearts for many years, a living hell. Summoning the fabled savior from the other world, ALICE, hope is seemingly lost with the murder of each supposed savior, all 24. However, there is something different about the 25th ALICE. This ALICE is no human, but a nation, the nation of the United States of America. Please R&R.
1. 24th Fail

A/N: This idea has been rolling around in my skull for quite a while now, but I had planned to do this after I finished On My Doorstep and two other multichapters. However, I just decided to go ahead with it. I really just wanted to finally get it down and post it.

WARNING: This chapter contains gore, language, abuse, slight necrophilia, and some disturbing images.

Thank you so much for clicking here and I do hope you will enjoy the first chapter poppets. And if you could be such dears, please a review. It would be much appreciated. And so I will let you go on and get to the actual tale.

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The 25th ALICE

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So much pretty red splattered upon the tiles, looking like delicious melted candy oozing against the white. The sound of tall heel clacked through the silent hall, the kings subjects silent as the watched the ruler of hearts slowly dip two fingers into the blood that was still leaking from the headless corpse a few feet away. The king watched the droplets of red trail down his fingers, falling back into the red sea with a small licked away the crimson, pondering the metallic taste. It was not sweet as he had hoped, but the flavor was not a bad one. Cleaning his fingers, the King of Hearts looked over to his ever faithful servant, who still held the cleaver in his gloved hand.

Walking through the spreading puddle of blood, the king bent down, the tail of his black coat sinking into the warm fluid. Extending his hands to touch both cheeks delicately, as if stroking a beautiful flower, the auburn haired king gently picked up the poor girls severed head from the puddle, brilliant red dying light chestnut locks. He brushed away a lock from her forehead, succeeding in smearing blood across her soft pale skin. His kind smile and twisted, spread wider, so impossibly wide that it looked as if his very face might crack in two. A wide pair of light green eyes stared back into his violet, no longer seeing him, an expression of fear permanently etched into her beautiful features.

"Dearest ALICE, they were all fools to send such a belle like you to be slaughtered, veh?" he whispered into the head's ear, lightly placing a kiss on her cheek. Glancing away for a moment, he looked at his calm servant and nodded. The blond servant proceeded to grab the headless body from the floor by the shoulder and dragged it away, opening intricate double doors and both disappearing behind them. When the doors closed, he placed his attention back to the head.

"My dear sweet ALICE," he cooed sweetly, as if he was talking to a living being instead of a silent decapitated head. He brushed his lips over hers, letting his eyes close as he felt the cold against his own. "It has been wonderful playing with you this time. You were far more entertaining than the previous ALICE. Much to boring she was. But you, I am sure all of my people adored you, thought, 'Yes, this ALICE will be the one'."

There was no response from unmoving lips, only the sound of rain beating against the glass of the walls. He gazed outside with a mischievous smile. No longer gently, his hand now gripped her by her wavy locks and she swung by his side as he walked over to the glass door, sliding it open and walking out onto the large balcony. The moon, so full and large that it seemed about ready to crash into the towering skyscraper, illuminated the dark city below. The King, leaned over the balcony railing, down to his city below.

Hundreds of citizens were gathered down beneath, becoming drenched in the icy rain as the prayed and prayed. Prayed that the ALICE had finally saved them, set there people free from the derangement of the King of Hearts. All the hundreds looked up towards the sky, hoping to see their beloved ALICE step out from the hellish tower and into the cold and chilly night, the blood of their hated king on hands. Held breaths turned into gasps of horror as instead the King stepped out into the night, the ominous figured bathed in horrid moonlight. He held up ALICE's head towards the moon, as if to show the very god of the night that no fairytale woman could ever kill him. He could hear the screams and sobs from down below.

"My belle, I am afraid this is where you and I part. The people wish to see you again, and I intend to be so kind as to let them," he said with a sickening sweetness as he held the held over the rail by the hair, letting he smeared blood he left on her face wash away in the icy rain. "Veh, I will be even so kind as to give them the rest of you back when I am done playing. Aren't I such a generous King?"

And then he let go, letting the beautiful head fall down to the sidewalk below into the desperate, sorrowful hands of her followers, whose tears were mixed with the unforgiving rain. Screams and swears filled the air as the crowd wished revenged on the king for the slaughter of another ALICE. The king could only smile, brushing back soaked hair and returning inside, closing the door behind him.

His eyes scanned the room, rereading the story it told, the story he had watched unfold. This ALICE was ever so bold, running straight into his office, demanding him to release the people of his kingdom and brandishing a ridiculously large kitchen knife. It was ever so rare an ALICE made it up this far, for they were usually hunted down by then, tracked down by his soldiers and mutilated, impaled, and eaten, decapitated and raped, burned and hung, just like proper vermin should. But no, this ALICE was smart and avoided harm, even came so close to killing him. He giggled, looking at the spatters of blood on the wall from her delicate neck met the cold metal of his most beloved servant's stained cleaver. Blood pooling out around the flailing girl, he only needed to signal with his eyes to tell the blond what to do, to put yet another victim out of its misery and detach her head from her body. He had sat amused at his throne as he watched the heavy cleaver come down against her neck as she still breathed. Again and again until he could hear the clear and heavenly sound of metal against bone, cleaver against spine. It was a fun game but over all too soon.

Back in the present moment, he was unsure of what to do about the floor and all the spilt blood. It'd be such a waste to simply mop it up. He smiled when an idea hit him and he snapped his fingers in the air. But a moment later, a young girl walked in through the double doors, looking fearful up at her master with wide green eyes. She held her gaze at the floor, not daring to meet her master's violet. He simply smiled at the child and walked over to her, his stiletto boots echoing with each step. He kneeled down to her eye level and had an expression that could have been described as kind. He lightly petted the girls short blond hair, noticing she still wore the ribbons given to her by her late brother. He smiled wide as he looked at the poor girl.

"Veh, little one. Are you thirsty?" he asked her softly, tilting her head up so she could see him. A chill ran down her spine. The little girl quickly shook her head as the feeling of nausea spread through her. "No? That isn't the answer I was looking for."

He tightly squeezed the girls chin between his fingers and kindness turned into a cruel, icy glare. Her whole body shook, but she knew she could not run.

"I will ask again. Are you thirsty?" he asked again, low like a growl. She did not hesitate to nod her head this time, on the verge of tears. His expression did another 180 as he returned to a sweet demeaned and giggled. "Very good. And how nice of me! I gave you so much to drink!" he cheered, standing up and holding the girl's arm. He dragged her over to the blood and gripped her by the head, forcing her down to her knees and inches above the red. She saw her tears create small ripples as they ran down her face and into the blood. She started to sob, but was quickly cut off when her face was slammed against the tile floor, blood smearing on her face, some getting inside of her nose. He held her down as he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"Now be a dear, and lick all of this up for me, please," he commanded gently. The girl only sobbed harder, blond becoming dyed with red as he pinned her. Violently tightening his hold, he pushed her harder down, growling. "Lap it all up now like a good little kitten laps up all of its milk, okay? And maybe I will keep you in a least one piece."

The child nodded frantically, whimpering and sobbed as she extended out her tiny pink tongue and running it across the floor, through the thick puddle. It taste terrible like a mouthful of pennies, but if she complained, she would meet the same fate as her brother. The King released his hand from her and was pleased as she continued to clean the floor with her tongue. He turned to leave his office, not looking back at the child but leaving her a few parting words.

"If there is even a spec left, you know what will happen," he warned with a light, sing-song tone, closing the doors behind him as he now stood in the hallway. He looked down to see red staining the white carpet, where the body had been dragged. He could only smile. If he followed the trail, it would lead him to ALICE. Skipping through the hall, the walls decorated with paintings he had painted himself, children being eaten by crows or beautiful women swinging in the wind as a noose clung to a tree branch, he hummed a soft little tune as he followed the bloody trail all the way through the hall and to the outside of his bedroom. He could see the smeared trail disappear inside. His most beloved servant stood outside, covered in blood and giving his master a nod. The King smiled wide and hungrily, giving his servant a long hug before opening the doors to his room. In his large bed laid the decapitated corpse of the 24th ALICE, stripped of all of her blood clothes and her legs spread open for him. He was glad that his servant tried so hard to make her so beautiful for him.

Crawling onto the bed beside her, he took her limp hand into his and placed a soft kiss upon the cold digits. Trailing kisses up her wrist, her forearm, her bicep, to her shoulder, his other hand lightly brushed up against her bare breasts. He was certain she would have been a very pleasant bed mate in life as well, but that was not nearly as appealing to him as she was now. From shoulder he kissed he crook of her neck and moved up to where nothing else remained, save for a bit of protruding spine and the jagged edges of flesh where the cleaver had so crudely cut. Kissing the torn flesh, he started giggling.

This is what became of their savior. The savior that they told their children about at night in the form of bedtime fairytales. The one to liberate the people of Wonderland from his rule.

He began to strip himself of his clothes, tossing of his heavy coat and working on the buttons of his shirt. Giggling turned into loud cackling.

His people's beloved ALICE, the young woman summoned from another world to save them. Their 24th failed attempt at trying to save themselves. Pathetic and futile, for as he kissed lower, kissing her collarbone, one hand kneading her cold breast, he knew that no matter how many ALICEs they summoned, he would not, could not, be defeated. And he would rule his beloved Wonderland for eternity and beyond. And the King could no longer stifle his insane and wild laughter.

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"Oh dearest me, I was so certain this ALICE would be the one, eh," came a soft whine from the small blond woman sitting on the patched up couch. Her hair was tied up in short pigtails that fell over the fronts of her shoulders and the girl brought her stuffed bear closer to her chest. Another woman, with much longer blond hair, with bushy brows and glasses petted her head gently.

"Then that means the next on if going to be the one," she said with a lack of any real hope in her voice, but the smaller girl only buried her face in the bear's soft white fur. She sighed. She knew she was terrible about comforting people and she knew the girl was rather close with this ALICE. The two went silent until the door to the basement slammed open, revealing another man, short hair and dressed in pink and khaki. His grin was wide and cheerful despite the horrible loss for the city.

"What the bloody hell are you so happy about? Or did you not hear the news?" the bespectacled girl growled, staring up at the man, who proceeded to skip over tp the two. He roughly petted the two on the head, like one would a worried pup.

"Oh, heaven's yes I heard about what happened to our dear little poppet. Rather tragic indeed, but something wonderful has happened," the strawberry blond explained in sing-song. The girl looked up at man, purple eyes filled with hope.

"This better be bloody good."

"The gates have opened and have found us a new ALICE," he explained cheerful, much to the surprise of the other two. The green-eyed girl gripped the other man roughly by the collar. "Oh, please do not resort to violence love."

"You are telling me you plan on summoning another fucking ALICE already?" she yelled, causing the man to flinch. He hated the tone and her vulgarity. He said nothing in his defense though. "We just lost an ALICE. What makes you think another one will make any difference? It'll end up just the same. The King's men will come and end the ALICE's life, just as always." The girl cried at the brutal truth in her words. Out of all 24 ALICEs they had summoned, not a single one had lived, not a single one didn't meet a violent and bloody end.

"Ah, but this one is special," he choked out, finding it hard to speak when dangling an inch off the ground. This only infuriated the long-haired woman further, shaking the other in her grasp. The girl wept harder, but made no attempt to stop them.

"How so, hm? All these fucking humans are the same! All it takes is a little decapitation and they die, too weak to withstand a little fire, can't even breathe in water! There is no hope in them, so why don't we just sto-" The girl was quickly cut off as the pink wearing man clasped his hand over her mouth, his grin large and wide as he drew close to her ear.

"Ah, but this ALICE is not a human," he whispered softly, causing the other's eyes to widen at the information. Confused did not begin to cover it.

"What? Then what the hell is it? Are we going to put our fate into the hands of some bloody animal or something?!" she screeched, bushy brows furrowed in anger and confusion

"This ALICE is a vessel for the strength of hundred of thousands, no even millions of people. This ALICE will surely be strong enough to save us from the king!" he explained, walking away from the woman and now spinning around the room.

"A vessel? How is that possible?" the girl on the couch questioned, rubbing her tears on her stuffed animal.

"On the other side of the mirror, where all the ALICEs hide, the world is divided into countries, just like here in Wonderland. But in the other world, each of these countries have a personification."

"A personi-what?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. Her white bear followed suit, blinking its button eyes in confusion.

"A personification, poppet," he repeated, stroking the bear's nose. "These beings, who look surprisingly human, are the living embodiment of their nations, hold the strength and power of their people inside of them," he explained, divulging his knowledge of the other side to his dearest sisters.

"And one of them is suited to become the next ALICE?" she bear wielding girl asked.

"A country from the other side of the mirror as our ALICE..." the bespectacled girl murmured, pondering over the idea. "Are these nations strong?"

"Oh very much strong indeed, more so than any human!" he sung, thinking of the ALICE he had seen through his mirror. "Not only that, but this nation, our ALICE, is among the strongest of all of them."

"A powerful new ALICE..."

"Surely this ALICE will save us!"

"Yes, another ALICE! We must summon ALICE at once! Oh, please! I can't stand living like this much longer, like a common roach hiding in the shadows, waiting to be squashed under a heavy boot!"

The man only smiled as the two woman clung to him desperately, begging for him to summon the next ALICE. The memories of the previous ALICE, who had been killed not even three hours ago had already left through the shattered cracks of their minds. He kissed the two blonds on the tops of their head.

"Of course, loves. I will make sure you two will be free from the icy hell," he whispered, closing blue and pink eyes as he rested his head in their golden locks. After holding them for quite a long time, he released the two woman, heading back through the door to which he had first emerged. The two looked at him hopefully, to which he smiled wide and reassuring.

"Don't worry loves. Soon, the 25th ALICE shall come and save us from the King."

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A/N: Okay, to be completely honest, I do not remember writing half of this, even the first author's note. I know I did this late at night, but I didn't realize how much I did or what it was that I wrote until I checked this morning. I actually like how it is though. Its sad that most of my favorite things come from me being on semiconscious.

I left out the names of everyone for a purpose, but they will all get proper introductions later on. Although I am sure you can tell who some of the characters are. Can you guess all the characters?

Well, I hope you all enjoyed and please leave a review if you can. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside when you do! Well, until next time!


	2. Early Morning Fantasy

A/N: Hello loves. Another chapter of the 25th ALICE for you all.

Thank you EliteKessu, blueorgray1236, Iris-Reid92, Apple Bagel, and MaxXimus K for your reviews. I really do appreciate it. I was extremely nervous about the first chapter, so I'm glad to get some feedback. It help me calm down some. And anyone else who is reading this, feel free to drop a review, even if you aren't fond of ALICE. I would really like to hear your opinions, critics, or even flames.

Anyway, this chapter will not be even close to the disturbing level as last chapter. I had a little trouble with this chapter, but it's longer than I expected. Things will get better in chapter 3. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter of The 25th ALICE, and thank you again!

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America gave a stretch of his arms as he basked in the sunlight flooding in from one of the hallway's window, letting a loud and long yawn escape from his lips. The blond removed his glasses and wiped his blue eyes, trying to wake up. He hadn't got much sleep the night before, playing into the early hour the latest 1st person co-op shooter with his alien friend, forgetting already that only hours away was a world meeting. It was a miracle he made it without being late, an even greater miracle that he had managed to get there half an hour early.

Adjusting his bomber jacket, the nation started to sluggishly make his way to the meeting room, poking a finger inside of his briefcase to flip through his papers. He doubled checked to make sure all of the documents were there for his presentation.

He gave a deep sigh. Even if more than half of them were missing, it wasn't like it made any difference. He would still be ignore per usual by all the other nations. Fighting would break out, usually England and France first with the others following after like stupid sheep. All the stupid yelling about the wide topic of absolute nonsense and every unimportant problem in their stupid lives that clearly was someone elses fault but their own. And then he'd have to be the responsible one to get everyone back on track by sounding enough of an idiot to distract everyone from their petty arguments, only to become the target of their verbal lashings himself. He really hated going to world meetings. He hated having to see all of their stupid faces.

He clenched his briefcase tighter, mumbling swears under his breath as he continued on, not noticing his fellow personification behind him.

"Oh, now isn't this a surprise? Are you actually early America?" England gaped, putting a hand on the shoulder of the taller blond. The American could only sleepily glare at the bushy browed nation, wishing his head would blow up into tiny chunks. This caused the Brit to release him and take a step back.

"Er, right, I forgot you weren't much of a morning person. No wonder you're so bloody late to the meetings," England remembered, thinking back to the days when the young nation was still only his dear little colony. Sweet and energetic when he first found him, but once he started getting older, he became more and more irritable in the mornings. Even Canada had been terrified of him when he woke up, waiting an hour for the blond to wake up before daring to greet him.

America frowned some, knowing exactly what his former caretaker was thinking.

"What do you want Iggy?" America grumbled, rubbing his eyes again.

"Is it so curious for me to say good morning?!" the british man yelled, unable to stand the nickname America had decided to call him. America rolled his eyes.

"But you didn't say good morning," he pointed out, much to the other's irritation. The taller of the two started walking again, flinging his case over his shoulder. Sure enough, the other followed close behind and fuming. It was too early to deal with England. All he wanted was to go to the meeting room, pour himself a cup of coffee, eat a donut, and wake himself up before any of the other nations showed up.

"Oh, bloody hell, good morning," the shorter growled, throwing him an unpleased glare. America gave a chuckle. He did getting on the Brit's nerves, to say the least.

"Morning to you too," he said as he noticed the wooden double doors that lead to the meeting room. His legs, however, were still too heavy to let him cheerfully run over and burst inside. Instead, he steadily made his way, doing his best to ignore England's voice.

"By the way, America, what is it that you're discussing today?" England asked, not too curious, but still, it was a polite question. The blond shrugged, now gripping the metal handle to the large wood door and swinging it open.

"You know, hero stuff," America said with a false smile, awake enough now to start building up his false cheerful persona. Stepping into the meeting room, the superpower saw the thing he most desperately wanted at that moment. A freshly brewed pot of coffee was sitting on the counter. It was the only thing that could help him deal with England, who was laughing cruelly at him.

"Of course, because your fixing your failing economy, energy issues, and god only knows whatever new problems you caused for yourself are not nearly important as being the hero," he laughed as America pulled down his favorite mug from the rack, with the words hero written on the front of it. The younger nation wanted nothing more than to punch the Brit in the face, but took a deep breath and laughed lightly himself.

"Nothing's more important than being the hero!" he said dramatically as he poured his e coffee. The smell was heavenly and he immediately took a sip, using the burning to jolt his falling eyes open. The burning of his own words were worse. He just didn't care anymore if people saw him an idiot. He really didn't care about their opinion anyway. He hated them all too much to do so. At least this way, he could keep himself at a comfortable distance.

The two took their coffees and sat down at their respective chairs, although they weren't more than three chairs away. England was fiddling around with his own documents as America took another long drink. Thankfully it had cooled down a smidge. The nation, who had already memorized the presentation he wasn't going to give, glanced around the meeting room. There was only one other nation there, northern Italy, who was sleeping at his chair across the table and snoring softly. It was odd to see Italy without Germany. Focusing his attention on the only other conscious person in the room, America glanced over at England's papers.

"So what's your presentation on?" America asked, looking into the dark brown of the brew. England raised an oversized brow. He hadn't really expected the other nation to be interested.

"Nothing a twat like you would be interested in," England muttered, not looking up from his papers.

"Humor me."

"Well, if you must know, its regarding a chain of disappearances," England finally said, looking at the younger nation.

"Disappearances? There are disappearances and kidnappings all over the world every day, despite out efforts. What makes this so important?" America questioned, thinking of the numerous disappearances that occured in the U.S every minute. So many people nationwide, but if it caught the eye of nation to do something about it, the person who went missing must be pretty important. England tossed over a file with a photo paperclipped inside.

"Dakota Benney, a patient of Archfield Insane Asylum," England identified as America looked at the picture, one of a seemingly normal young woman with wavy chestnut hair and bright green eyes. The idea of a woman like her being in an asylum was rather odd, since she looked perfectly normal, however all of the paperwork from the facility was inside. Flipping through the documents, he didn't see anything particularly special, no connections or involvement in anything too big.

"Why the interest?" Alfred asked, flipping through the papers, reading her profile and logs of her behaviors inside the facility. A moderate schizophrenic, Benney, 25, had murdered her husband of two years under the suspicion of unfaithfulness. However, due to her extreme mental instability, claiming voice and nonexistent entities were telling her of her husbands affairs, she was sentenced to an asylum rather than actual prison.

"If you keep reading, it explaIns how she went missing," England continued, picking up another file from his stack. America nodded, looking closer to the back of the file. There was written was details of the young woman's mental decline and disappearance. Due to extreme self mutilation and posing a danger to both others and herself, she was housed in a padded room, under constant surveillance. With cameras watching the exterior of the room, there would be no way of escape the room undetected. However, when she was due to be checked on, the room was found empty.

"Not only that, but on the same date and around the estimated time, there was an extreme spike in magical energies in England. It only lasted a brief moment, and officials did not take record of this, I sense it." At this, America rolled his eyes, shutting the file. Now things were starting to head in the supernatural direction, which the blond nation was sure was half false anyway.

"And your imaginary friends have their own reality tv show too?" America laughed, sliding back the file to the highly irritated nation.

"For the last time, they are not imaginary!" England yelled, slamming his fist on the table. Out of surprise of the sudden outburst, the italian nation from the table just up with a shriek, drool coming down his chin and looking somewhat freaked out. Blinking and noticing England and America across from him, he smiled at them and put his head back on the table, falling back to sleep.

"Dude, calm down," America mumbled, resting his chin on his palm. England sighed, trying to compose himself, like a true english gentleman.

"Anyway, each time, there was a magical disturbance in the area around the disappearance, as far as I was able to detect."

"Wait...each time?" At this, the british nation slid over a two more files, similar to Ms. Benney's. He read the what was written on the tab each of the folders.

Kara Maribelle- American

Felix Arvid Ulf Kjellberg- Swedish

Dakota Benney- England

Looking over the names and countries of origin, he skimmed through the file, looking over the medical files and dates. The three disappearances occurred at different times, starting 90 years ago, Benney being the most recent of the three. From their ages and locations, there didn't seem like any logical connection between the three until he looked over the medical records.

"It seems each of the three who disappeared were suffering from some form of mental disorder," England pointed out. "While disappearances from such institutions are not unheard of, for humans are rather...unpleasant, the magic use that occurs around the time worries me."

The doors to the meeting hall opened, suddenly, causing America to cast a glance at Japan as he entered inside. Switzerland and Liechtenstein followed shortly afterwards. America shifted his focus back again.

"Judging from the time between each disappearance, it is possible that these aren't the only three," England sighed, reaching over and grabbing back the files. "With magic energies, not many can detect it like I, so there is no way to tell if there are any other connected disappearances."

"So what do you plan on doing? After humans go missing for this long, typically there is no way to find them. What makes you think they're even alive?" America asked, thinking about the countless people his country was unable to find when magic wasn't even involved. It did not give him any feelings of hope.

"I at least want to give everyone an idea of what is going on. I hardly believe this is all that has happened or will happen so-" England suddenly felt himself cut short as a pair of arms wrapped around his neck and a head rested on his blond locks.

"Angelterre, would you please stop being such a bore? Nobody is going to listen you if you use such dull words. You must add love and color into them, like moi!" France said in a sing-song voice, a wide smile on his lips as he noticed the englishman getting red with anger.

"Get you grubby mitts off me, you frog!" he yelled, pulling himself free and trying to punch the other blond. France easily moved out of the way with a spin, his coat spinning just as dramatically. America sighed and put his head onto the table, France being the last person he wanted to see since his appearance always caused a fight to erupt between the two. England got up from his desk and throwing his pen to the side.

"You two are so childish, aru," a new voice came, China walking into the room, eating something that America could not name, but assumed it probably had crab in it. More and more nations filed inside. Russia walked in with the Baltic trio shaking behind him. Romano stormed in, a very doting Spain trying to attach himself to the smaller Italian. Japan and Germany came in together, the German looking as stern as ever. America watched as the german noticed his italian ally asleep. Slamming his hand down onto the table, the little nation woke up with a terrified shriek, begging not to be killed. America chuckled as the italian flailed as he apologized. There weren't too many nations he liked anymore, for they were so cruel and degrading, stupid and blind, but Italy was one of the few he actually could stand. He was a coward, but not too different from himself. Both treated rather unfairly, but unlike him, he was pretty sure Italy's brain rolled around his skull with a small walnut.

It didn't take long for the meeting hall to become full, and all that was preventing the meeting from commencing were the few late nations. The room became filled with loud voices, some chatting idly, while others were yelling, fights breaking out as normal. America glanced over to see France and England still at each other's throats, not noticing his brother sitting down next to him. America watched France had some rather lewd comments to the Brit, causing him to sigh. Sometimes he just really wanted to pull out his pistol, the one concealed inside his bomber jacket because weapons weren't allowed in the meetings, and shoot the two in the face. In fact, he wanted to do that to most of the nations in the room.

He smiled to himself, imaging the expressions of horror of the others as he shot France between the eyes, the back of his skull bursting open, spilling blood and brain onto the nice tile floor. The mixture of grey and red would contrast brilliantly against the white, small shards of skull across the floor. England would be in shock for a moment, desperately trying to grasp what exactly had happened, green eyes wide in horror. He would turn to his former colony, in astonishment in rage, lashing out attack him, gloved hand reaching for America's gun. He smiled as he shot the other in the knee, watching as he screamed, collapsing onto the floor, clutching his wounded limb. In reality, if something like this ever happened, he knew, the countless countries would be on top of him, restraining him. Russia would probably be all to eager to bash his pipe into his skull, and he knew at least a few other nations had concealed weapons and would not be afraid to disable him. However, in his sick fantasy, they simply watched in horror, screams and terrified sobs echoing through the room like sweet music.

Putting his boot to his former caretaker's chest, he stomped as hard as he could, grinning wide as the sound of snapping ribs filled his ears. England bit his bottom lip, trying so hard not to scream, but that displeased him. He wanted him in pain, to scream until his voice was raw, until the pain was so unbearable that he would pass out. Making sure that he kicked England in his shattered knee, he kissed the cold metal of the gun, wondering where to hit next. His lung? No, it would be over to quick. He could always shoot him in the arm, giving him another burst of pain before he went for a killing blow. Or the stomach was always an option, the idea of a slow painful death, blood gushing from between his lips, gurgling as he tried to scream and plead for his life, filled him up inside with a giddy joy and excitement. He aimed his gun down at the Brit, finger twitching eagerly over the trigger, watching as a tear slipped down England's cheek and-

"SHUT UP EVERYONE! WE ARE NOW STARTING THIS MEANING, SO PUT ASIDE YOUR ARGUMENTS SO WE ACTUALLY ACCOMPLISH SOMETHING! " Germany screamed, grabbing the attention of all the nations and snapping America out of his pleasant thoughts. He growled, hating the loud blond for cutting him off before getting to the good part. France and England, now quiet sat down at their seats, still glaring but no longer fighting.

America sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, dreading the next few hours. Screaming, accusations, stupidity, and the regular criticisms and insults toward himself. He hated it. Hated it so much, he almost wanted to blast his own head off. Faking his hero smile, he pretended to care as the meeting started, images of what each nation would look like soaked in their own blood filling his vision.

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A/N: Sorry again for taking so long on this chapter. I just really don't like it. The only real fun part I had was America's little fantasy. I think America is kinda ooc here, like a lot, but I don't believe I've actually written Alfred before except when Canada killed him with a baseball bat. But he is supposed to be a little ooc for this, I guess? I don't know. Hopefully I get the hang of him.

By the way, in regards to the Swedish missing person, Felix, is there anyone who knows who he is? As a member of the Bro Army, when I decided to put someone from Sweden, I naturally chose him. Brofist to anyone who guesses correctly. Oh and Kara Maribelle belongs to EliteKessu.

Well, thank you again for reading The 25th ALICE, and please leave a review on your way out! It is always appreciated and will help me a great deal. Thank you and until next time loves!


	3. Punishment

A/N: Hello dears! I'm back with the third chapter of ALICE! For me, ALICE is both really easy for me to write, but also extremely difficult. Scenes with America, like last chapter, are really hard, but when I write for the King, I absolutely love doing so, although that may not be healthy. This chapter is more on the harder side I think. Sorry if it's a little short.

I want to thank everyone for their reviews, favorites, and follows! When I first started this, I thought nobody would like it, so I feel so grateful and happy people are reading! If you haven't yet, please drop a review, whether it be a flame, compliment, criticism, opinion, or random haiku or some such.

Warnings: Gore, abuse, cannibalism, and some disturbing images

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"Aren't you a handsome one, veh?" the king whispered softly, stroking the cheek of the crippled man underneath him. The brunette's leg had been smashed in, bone jutting out from under the skin and into the cold air, blood oozing out and soaking his pants. Normally sleepy, dark green eyes, glistening slightly with tears of pain but letting them run free, glared up at the king as his violet eyes swept over his torso, his well built chest peeking out from under his half zipped black jacket.

The King gently ran his fingers through the man's messy dark chocolate locks, the sticky feeling of blood coating his skin. He drew his hand back and examined the fresh blood from the head wound, smiling wide. Placing his fingers back onto his neck, he trailed one finger down the olive skin, over the muscles, down to his collarbone, leaving a trail of red behind.

"Now, Heracles, there are a few things that I find are very important," he whispered into the man's ear, caressing underneath the man's jacket, under the white shirt. "Do you know what they are?" he asked, childish cruelty dripping from his twisted lips. The man named Heracles simply glared up at his King, trying to smother his terrible fear with silent rage and determination. Despising the man he served, the man he had betrayed, he spat into the giggling man's face.

The redheaded king paused, expression of insane and delirious excitement faltering and flashing murderous viciousness. Eyes narrowing, violet flickering venomously, his attempted to remain calm, smiling, as he wiped to hot saliva running down his pale cheeks, down his chin away. Tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes, looking almost innocent, he stood, tossing his handkerchief to the side.

"Veh, for a man so devoted to knowledge and philosophy, you are quite stupid," he giggle, suddenly kicking the man in his jaw his his steel toe boot. It brought a wave of satisfaction to hear the sickening crunch of breaking down. Falling over with a thud, his strong, confident demeanor came crumbling down, looking nothing more than a pathetic mess. Not quite done, he smiled as he stepped down lightly on his shattered leg. Heracles gave a terrified look, knowing what he was going to do. Unable to restrain himself any further, the man let out a ear-splitting scream as the King slammed his heel down as hard as he physically could onto the already mutilated leg, blood and bone snapping and squirting under the pressure.

"Now, I hold many things in high, but the one I hold in highest value is trust," he said calmly, continuing where he left off. "Now, in case you have forgotten, which wouldn't be too hard to fathom since you seem to be in a permanent state of drowsiness, I was almost brutally murdered by little dear ALICE," the king growled, gesturing wildly as if there was some chance of actually being harmed in the incident that happened two nights ago. Exaggerating seemed to be one of his favorite pastimes.

"Now, I wonder how such a cute little twisted rat managed to sneak inside, veh? She certainly didn't just waltz through the front gates," he spoke, fully knowing the truth. Slipping his hand into his red coat pocket, he pulled out a simple but elegant dagger, blade curved and silver hilt wrapped red, white, and green silk ribbons. He kissed the cool steel before touching the other's bloodied chin, tilting it up so the injured man had no choice but to look upon him.

"Now there's only way that such a silly little vermin might manage to find her way inside. Someone had to have helped sweet, foolish little ALICE inside, to lead her to my death rather than her own, right?" Pressing a little harder, a bead of red welled up under the point. "Now I wonder who that could be."

Emotionless chocolate eyes watched as his king interrogated Heracles, blocking the door and remaining silent. While the asian man had been rather fond of Heracles, there was no worse crime than betrayal. Having smuggled in the ALICE to kill his king was unforgivable, so he pushed away all other emotions from his mind as he watched silently as the red-head moved down close to the other's ear, strange curl sticking up from the rest of the locks practically bouncing in excitement and bending into a strange heart shape.

"You tried to take my life away, so I think it's only fair I return the favor," he whispered into the shell, the dagger at his throat preventing him front jerking his head away. He giggled childishly before lightly nibbling at the other's lobe, trailing the blade down from his broken jaw line, down his neck to his collarbone so lightly there was nary a single mark.

"Death is something so beautiful. You can't just simply send a mad woman to kill me. To kill is such an intimate act," he chuckled, running his tongue across his neck, savouring the taste of fear and rage. Lightly nipping as he trailed back upward towards his ear, he continued. "To end someone's life, you must be willing to extract their very existence with your own two hands."

Shifting from seductive licks and nips, the King bit down on the other's ear, making sure to sink his canine into the cartilage before yanking his head back with all the force he could muster, ripping away the chunk of flesh from the side of Heracles' head. The darker man screamed as hot red gushed from the wound.

"Or teeth," he childishly giggled as he removed the ear from his mouth, staring at it for a moment before taking a bite from it, swallowing the cartiledge with a satisfied grin. "Would you like some?" he offered politely to the writhing man. When all the response he got was cries of agony, he turned to the japanese man, who was still watching, trying to conceal his horror.

"Kiku?" he asked, presenting the half eaten ear to him. The smaller man politely shook his head, although internally he wished to empty out his stomach at the offer. The red-haired king stared at him for a moment, violet eyes narrow before smiling. "Very well. More for me," he giggled, popping the rest of the flesh into his mouth and chewing, cartilage crunching grotesquely.

Tears freely falling from dark green eyes, Heracles flinched as the King licked away the salty tears. Grin impossibly wide, he kissed his shoulder, forearm, any place that his blood stained lips could touch. The dagger fell to the marble floor loudly, no longer needed as Feli used both hands to hold down Heracles' arm to the cold tile. His eyes flickered brightly in anticipation.

"Veh, Kiku, would you mind leaving us for a bit?" he asked sweetly, eyes not moving, but tongue running along his own bottom lip. Kiku could feel the bile rise in his throat when he saw the shine in his ruler's violet eyes. He had seen it once before, when the seventh ALICE had tried to play the foretold heroine and fluttered foolishly into the flames. Her death had been quick and relatively clean, but the disposing of her body was not. He pitied his old friend, knowing he would not the same kindness shown. He bowed, dark eyes focusing anywhere but before him as he took a step back towards the door.

"Of course, Feliciano, sir."

His attempts of blocking out his sight did nothing to protect his ears from the horrid agonizing screams as he King sunk his teeth into Heracles' forearm, canines puncturing deep, blood squirting onto his face, clothes, as he tore off the hunk of flesh from his arm. Masticating the flesh between his teeth, the King, Feliciano, smiled widely after he swallowed, teeth stained red and chunks of skin and muscle stuck in between. Ripping the fabric of the bleeding man's shirt, deranged violet swept over the torso, the well-defined abs, as if he was looking over a glorious buffet all for him. Kissing his abdomen first, he plunged his teeth into the new target, blood bubbling out of the corners of Heracles' mouth.

Kiku throw a hand to his mouth as he felt the contents of his stomach fill his mouth, desperately trying to escape through his lips onto the floor. He held his lips tight together, terrified of what the man he was forced to call his ruler and king would do if he did such an act. Trying to act as calm as he possibly could, he managed to back out of the room, closing the double doors as he entered the hallway. Only then did the thick fluid spew pass his lips, spilling and forming a puddle on the floor. Feeling weak and sickened, he fell to his knees, fresh screams and insane laughter ringing out though the long hall, doors not nearly enough to block out the chaos and madness.

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"Do you think the new ALICE will be a girl or a boy this time?"

"How the bloody hell would I know, Madeline?" the bushy browed female grumbled, stirring another lump of sugar into her light blue tea. Madeline, turning the stuffed bear towards her, tilted her head to the side, blind pigtails tied in red ribbons bouncing. Light violet eyes from behind wire rimmed glasses stared into black buttons, expecting the toy to answer the question for her.

"Well, Kumayumi, do you think ALICE'll be a girl this time?" Madeline asked the soft bear, ignoring the irritated sigh from her older sister. There was a long pause before the bear twitched, its head spinning all the way around before opening its makeshift mouth, a gaping hole half stitched closed to prevent the stuffing from spilling out.

"Who are you?"

"Never mind," the quiet blond sighed, tossing the toy across the room, letting it his against the wall. Her sister sat down beside her, stroking the side of her face gently. The older blond pressed her lips to the other's forehead.

"Don't worry, sister. We'll find out soon enough, our beloved new ALICE at our doorstep," she whispered comfortingly to her, kissing just below the eyes now. Madeline let a small smile cross her thin lips. "And then ALICE will take care of that stupid King, and we can all be happy together, all three of us. How does that sound, love?" she asked, lime green eyes flickering faintly with a spark of hope. Madeline nodded as her dearest sister continued planting kisses on her soft, pale skin. On her eyelid, the tip of her nose, her blushing pink cheeks, her soft lips.

"Well, you two seem to be enjoying yourselves without me."

Both of the girls jumped as the sound of a new voice reappeared in the living room and spun to see their brother, standing in the doorway to the basement with a large toothy grin. The two got up from their spot and ran forward, wrapping their arms around him and kissing his on either cheek.

"Ah, brother! Did you do it yet! Did you summon ALICE?" the older sister questioned, barely able to contain her excitement. Her long blond pigtails bounced up and down along with her.

"Is she hiding in the basement? Oh, please tell me it is a she! I would ever so love to brush her hair, and we would talk and she could even remember my name!" Madeline giggled, remembering how the only two ALICEs that had managed to recall her name had been two sweet young women. The male of the group let out a sigh before petting the girls on the head.

"It seems that unlike a human, to snatch a personification from the other world takes a bit more time than I had anticipated, loves," he apologized as the faces of the two women fell, Madeline looking to be on the verge of tears. Lightly, he licked away the tear as it slide down her pale skin. "I promise though loves, I will bring us ALICE."

"You better, Arthur! I am ever so tired of this life!" the older blond complained, adjusting her black rimmed glasses. She took a glance at the door that led to the basement. "Would you need assistance with the magic? I am not nearly as strong, but I am sure I could be of some use."

"No poppet, let brother take care of it all, okay? I do not wish for you to get yourself hurt," he explained to her, but smiled kindly at her. "Now, I must return downstairs for a time, but I will be back by dinner."

"We will make it super delicious, so don't work yourself too hard," Madeline smiled sweetly, and earned a pat of the head before the pink wearing man turned and opened the plain white door to the basement.

"ALICE, you are being awfully difficult," Arthur whispered to himself as he descended the stairs to the basement, blue and pink eyes glowing in the growing darkness.

The basement was large, almost larger than the entire house upstairs, blackness only broken by a few melting candles and the glow of emerald from the intricate symbol carved into the stone floor. Arthur danced into the center of the symbol, fixing his pink cuffs. Taking a deep breath, his normally cheerful expression became serious, closing his eyes as he felt the sparks of magic burning his fingertips.

Green burned brighter, becoming a sickening yellow as the the magic began to take form, swirling up from the ground and circling around his hands. Arthur's breath became heavy as he could feel himself being filled, magics seeping into his body and spreading its bubbling warmth to his limbs, curling into a ball in his chest, making his heart beat fast.

Cracking his eyes open, meeting only a sea of greens and yellows, Arthur tried to concentrate, trying to bring back the image he had seen before, the face of the ALICE. Two toned eyes squinted as a blurry image mixed into the magic, unclear but still seen. Trying harder, trying to make a connection, he focused harder, forcing the image to become clearer in his mind.

Short and dusty blond hair, a single strand defying gravity by sticking up from the top of his head. Sky blue eyes, burning with rage and drowning in sorrow peering out from behind thin rimmed glasses. Arthur could only smile at the sight of ALICE, strong and powerful, someone, or something that could save them.

A simple facial image expanded, forming a complete body, tall and well-built frame hidden under a large brown jacket, black fur around the collar and a symbol that Arthur didn't recognize on the back of it.

Arthur felt the words form upon his lips as the name of the ALICE slithered into his skull.

"America."

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A/N: This is one chapter I have to ask myself, what the hell am I writing?! cannibalism and shoujo-ai. Never thought I'd put those together in a chapter together.

So our King is now officially Feliciano, although most of you probably knew it was Italy.

For all my characters, I have ideas for outfits for each one, I may post them up somewhere maybe, but I want to give a description of Madeline's outfit. It has a Red Riding Hoodish look; a long long hooded cloak, tall leather boots, a very short red skirt, and a low cut black long sleeve.

Oh by the way, I normally live in California if you didn't know. But at the moment, I am in the state of Wisconsin, working the state fair! I'm going to be absolutely busy so I don't know if I'll be able to post up for a while, but I'll try.

Anyway, thank you all again for reading and please leave a review if you can! It means a lot to me if you do! Well, until next time!


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